Throughout our lives, we meet many people. Who is the most scariest person you've met in person?

Mine is this: I was walking along Summer Street, in Halifax, in my early 20s when this man approached me late one night. It was foggy and he was dressed all in black. He stopped abruptly in front of me on the lonely street and looked at me with rat-like eyes. He asked me where I lived. I told him I lived on a certain street, curious as to why a stranger would ask such a question.

I don't know why, as my heart was beatly like mad, as I thought perhaps he had a big knife under his black coat and was going to slash me, but I asked him the same question. "In there," he said, pointing toward old cemetery gates. It was a huge graveyard with thousands of tombstones. "In the ground."

I trembled, the hairs on the back of my neck perking up and brushing against the collar of my shirt. I told him I had to be going. I walked passed him and then quickened my pace, glancing back twice to see him just standing there, but looking my way.

A few weeks later I walked by the graveyard again at midnight and I thought for sure I saw the same man standing on a gravestone holding an axe up over his head. My imagination playing tricks on me? Perhaps. But then perhaps not. I think I ran all the way home that night.

My story NOWHERE TO GO was published by PS PUBLISHING in a book titledPOSTSCRIPTS #14in England in 2008. Let me know if you've read it. If you'd like to contact me, send me a Private Message.

Barry,
Have you read "The Yellow Sign" by Robert W. Chambers? If not, get thee to the library! Your creepy anecdote immediately made me think of this masterpiece. I've not thought about the tale in a while. You triggered some associated memory in me....
Bolting the Doors,
Phil

"What does it mean to be alive except to court disaster and suffering at every moment?"

Tibet: Carnivals? Ligotti: Ceremonies for initiating children into the cult of the sinister.Tibet: Gas stations?Ligotti: Nothing to say about gas stations as such, although I've always responded to the smell of gasoline as if it were a kind of perfume.

Barry,
"The Yellow Sign" is a story which has been anthologized many times. If you look for a book, search under either The King in Yellow or The Yellow Sign and Other Stories which may (or may not) still be available from Chaosium Books. Get the latter if you can; it's Chambers' own Nightmare Factory. (A warning , though, Barry: "The Yellow Sign" is literary LSD. I read it during a bleak snowed-in January several years ago. I felt violated after I read it; the showers I took could not remove the grime; I truly experienced a malaise for about a month thereafter. You'll never be the same Barry again.)
Not Quite Ready for a Refresher,
Phil

"What does it mean to be alive except to court disaster and suffering at every moment?"

Tibet: Carnivals? Ligotti: Ceremonies for initiating children into the cult of the sinister.Tibet: Gas stations?Ligotti: Nothing to say about gas stations as such, although I've always responded to the smell of gasoline as if it were a kind of perfume.

I feel exactly the same way about THE KING IN YELLOW.
I have a small black volume with a yellow figure on the front (the first edition I think) and this accentuates the effect.

Allied to this, is a theory I've had for many years - that the most horrific horror in fiction can be the least horrific. (Although The Yellow Sign part of KiY is overtly horrific itself).
des

That's why your stuff is creepy; Like Lovecraft and Ligotti, a great deal is insinuated or left out. Sometimes the nuances only vaguely have to suggest something so horrible we are thankful it is left out of view. (Very much like the fictional Von Unaußprechlichen Kulten.)

"What does it mean to be alive except to court disaster and suffering at every moment?"

Tibet: Carnivals? Ligotti: Ceremonies for initiating children into the cult of the sinister.Tibet: Gas stations?Ligotti: Nothing to say about gas stations as such, although I've always responded to the smell of gasoline as if it were a kind of perfume.

on prom night, my girlfriend and I were going to a party at a hotel in town. I was driving, pulled to the curb and parked. As we prepared to get out of the car, three mexican guys walked towards the car from behind. I watched from my rear view mirror. They got to the trunk and started bouncing it, making the car go up and down. My girlfriend and I (still in prom regalia) got out of the car. I looked at them and one of 'em said, "Oh, ####, let's get out of here." I was seriously willing to risk my life for my girlfriend. I was gonna beat the #### out of them if they tried anything. I comforted her as she was quite shaken by this. (I was too but to a lesser degree). A few minutes later we heard a crashing sound like glass breaking and then saw a car peel out of the parking lot. It was the same three guys. My girlfriend and I walked through the parking lot, and there was a broken tv on the ground. They came through the alley and waited there. I watched them. I told my girlfriend to go inside the room. I didn't quite know what to do. They kept circling the building...watching me. One of my friends pulled up in his car and I asked him if he would follow me home while I drop my car off and get a ride back in his. he said sure. I wasn't going to let some hooligans ruin my night. we lost them (or they left) while I dropped my car off and went back to the hotel.

my girlfriend was very happy to see me come back because she thought I was just going to stay home.

definitely one of the more unpleasant encounters I've had in my (relatively) peaceful life.